Читать книгу Secrets Of The Outback - Margaret Way - Страница 10

IT WAS AFTER SIX before she left the office, intending to take the bus the couple of blocks to her club, the Caxton. Named after an early female activist, it had been formed a few years back for young, professional women, mostly from legal circles. She enjoyed being part of it and meeting other young women whose interests matched her own. At the club she could relax and freshen up before going on to meet the Hungerford boys at the restaurant. They had assured her they could find it.

It was much too late to go home, home being a small townhouse in a trendy suburb near the river. She was paying it off, but not as quickly as she would’ve liked. There were too many other considerations, not the least of them keeping up the appearance her job required, especially since Blair Skinner had taken her under his wing. After such a strange and frustrating afternoon, the boys’ unhappy home and financial situation had somehow paled into insignificance beside her own affairs. She would have to get herself back on track. Going up north to visit her mother would address two issues at once. Her own family mystery and how Sheila Hungerford, now Sheila Everett, had come to betray her adored sons.

Lost in thought, Jewel didn’t immediately notice the big silver-gray limousine that was purring alongside her as she strolled along. Finally it caught her attention, and she swung her head. Shock was like a live wire sparking inside her. The face that looked out at her belonged to Keefe Connellan. She couldn’t believe it. Was he following her? He was seated in the rear of the chauffeur-driven vehicle, the window wound down. He called to her, his tone of voice quietly authoritative.

“Ms. Bishop.” The limousine slid into a loading zone a short distance ahead, and he emerged from the back seat, leaving the door open and looking toward her. “Could you spare a moment?”

Her pulse picked up and the blood tingled through her veins. She hated the way he was looking at her. “I don’t think so, Mr. Connellan. I have an evening appointment.” She spoke doubtfully, as if it were a regretful statement of fact. She was careful not to reveal her unease.

“Are you going home?” He, too, kept his tone polite—but managed to sound somehow derisive.

“As it happens, I’m off to my club.”

“The Caxton?”

It seemed he approved. Not that she cared. She dropped her pretense, realizing she was under careful scrutiny. “Now, how did you discover that?”

He smiled, a white flash that attracted her in spite of herself.

“Would you believe I have a marvelous networking system?” he said. “Please get in. You’re not five minutes away, if we drive you.”

Jewel took a decisive step to one side, head up, shoulders straight. “That’s quite all right. I like to walk.”

“Obviously, since you’re in the best of shape.” His glance licked over her. “But indulge me.”

“What, after today?” Those black eyes made her think of the Medicis and hidden daggers.

“I’m interested in talking to you further,” he said mildly, his expression giving nothing away.

“Really? There’s nothing to learn.”

“We both know there is.” He stared down into her face, then he put out a hand and gently grasped her arm.

Jewel’s knees turned to mush.

“You’re forcing me into your car?” She lifted her brows, feeling an unwelcome thrill she sought to banish.

“I never forget my manners.”

“You forgot them this afternoon.” Knowing she had little chance of getting away, short of screaming, Jewel slid into the back seat of the Rolls. A smartly uniformed chauffeur sat behind the wheel awaiting instructions. He didn’t turn his head.

“The Caxton, Jacob,” Keefe Connellan said. He got in beside Jewel, shutting the door.

“Yes, sir. I know it.”

Keefe Connellan focused his attention on Jewel, while the chauffeur activated a device to bring up a glass partition between front and back seats.

“This is a lot like getting kidnapped.”

He looked at her in mock amazement. “Please don’t feel threatened. There’s nothing wrong with privacy.”

“So you’re a private investigator now.” Jewel leaned back slightly, her nostrils beguiled by the scent of the plush leather.

“Lady Copeland is someone I care about,” he said curtly, revealing the anger beneath the smooth surface.

“She has a son,” Jewel said pointedly.

“Obviously.” He watched her in a way she couldn’t fathom. “She has a granddaughter, too.”

“Amelia. Yes, I know.” Jewel glanced out the window at the homebound crowds. “I’ve often seen her photograph in the social pages. She’s very beautiful. Do you care about her, too?” She tossed her head defiantly, pleased that she’d rattled him.

“Why? Is it any of your business?”

“In my view, yes. If you think it’s within your rights to investigate me, why should you object to my right to investigate you? Unless you think being very wealthy gives you some authority over the rest of us.”

He turned his lean body so he was confronting her. “What is it, Ms. Bishop, that you hope to achieve? To get close to Lady Copeland? To make yourself a member of the family? You don’t know Travis.” He shook his head. “He won’t be very pleased to welcome you. Neither will Amelia. You’re already the cause of intense emotional anguish.”

“How?” Jewel demanded, holding his eyes. “No speaking in tongues this time. How exactly?”

His answer, when it came, took her completely by surprise. “You’re pretty damn amazing, you know that?”

“I don’t care for you, either.” She was barely able to remain seated beside him. Large as the interior of the Rolls was, she had never felt so claustrophobic. “In fact, I’ve never met a man I find so hateful.”

“Words. Mere words, Ms. Bishop. What you are is somewhat wary of me. As you should be.”

“Particularly as you appear to be stalking me.”

His laugh was unexpected and profoundly attractive. “I prefer to say ‘running a few checks.’”

“Well, I hope you’ve dropped Blair Skinner from your investigation,” Jewel said. “He’s as straightforward as anyone you could meet.”

He pondered that a while. “I wouldn’t have thought him the sort of man to pull something like this.”

“Something like what?” Her eyes opened wide in indignation. “This colossal con? Is that what it’s supposed to be?”

He smiled slightly, no humor in it. “Perhaps if I keep you off balance, you’ll crack.”

“To hell with that!” Jewel muttered, one arm extended toward the door. “There is where I get off.”

“Of course.” He nodded his coal-black head. “Perhaps you’ll invite me inside for a drink. I haven’t seen the place since they renovated. One of our subsidiary companies did the job. Leave the door,” he advised. “You can depend on Jacob to open it.”

Jewel took a deep breath, glancing at him slowly. “Oh, what it is to be rich!” she said in a bitter voice. “Attendants on every side—and the power to inspire fear.”

“When did you decide you wanted that, too?” he asked tautly.

“I have enough money to live on.” She shot him a disgusted look.

“You’ve got no money,” he corrected, rather indolently.

“I beg your pardon.” She thought she’d been holding her own but that got to her. He had taken the time to find out everything, it seemed. A massive invasion of her privacy.

“A very nice town house,” he continued in a deceptively pleasant tone. “You’re paying it off. And look at your beautiful clothes!” He shifted slightly to gaze at her, making her very conscious of her body. “Buying clothes must take a lot of your pay.”

Jewel stared back for a few moments, her cheeks burning. “God, you’re offensive.”

“I just keep thinking about what you’re trying to do,” he countered quietly.

“What? Join the Copeland family?” She spoke crisply. “Come on, give me a clue. Instead of looking down your arrogant nose at me. Why don’t you share your suspicions? That would be a good start. Obviously, your thoughts differ appreciably from mine.”

He wondered how much longer she’d be able to keep up the act, drawn and repelled at the same time. Then he said what he had never intended. Judgment clouded by a beautiful woman? “I’m prepared to talk over a quick drink.”

She blinked hard and looked away. “Otherwise, say goodbye to my career, my reputation?”

“That’s a take-it-or-leave-it offer,” he answered.

EVERYONE LOOKED AT THEM when they walked into the quiet elegance of the Caxton’s lounge. There were a few male guests mixed in with the women. All were seated in comfortable leather armchairs ranged around circular tables, nursing drinks and talking in a relaxed fashion. Most of them Jewel knew. She smiled, waved and nodded her way across the room with its attractive contemporary carpet, while most of the eyes widened and the smiles grew.

“It’s Jewel—and just see who she’s with!”

What they couldn’t know was that she wasn’t enjoying it. She felt like a fictional character, aware of the little eddies of excitement that ran through the room. Keefe Connellan knew quite a few people, too, because he lifted his hand, that beautiful white smile flashing.

No sooner were they seated at a quiet table for two overlooking the small rear garden than a waiter appeared, bending over deferentially. “Good evening, Mr. Connellan. Miss Bishop.”

Jewel nodded, doing her best to smile. “Good evening, Archie.”

“That’s it—Archie.” Connellan took a long look at the waiter. “You worked at the Polo Club for a while?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the Queensland. You get around, Archie.”

Archie nodded, grinning delightedly. “I like a change. Could I take your order, sir?”

Keefe Connellan looked at the quietly seething Jewel, with her golden hair. “No one drinks much anymore. Not when they’re going on to an evening appointment,” he said, a little sarcastically.

“A martini,” she said. “A very, very dry martini. One olive.”

“Fabulous!” Connellan said. “I’ll join you.”

“When can we stop all this?” Jewel asked, after Archie had gone, his expression conveying his absolute fascination at seeing them together. “I think we’ve moved beyond the conspiracy theory.”

“All right.” He leaned forward, stared into her deeply blue, black-lashed eyes, aware that every man in the room was staring at her. Why not? Physically she was an inspiration. It was her character that worried him. “One doesn’t have to be a super-sleuth to realize you’re somehow related to Lady Copeland. Either that or you’ve had plastic surgery.”

She forcibly shut down her mounting panic. “What do you think?”

“I can’t even see the tiniest wrinkle. You have beautiful skin. This, of course, we already know.”

Despite the mocking banter, Jewel felt chilled. “I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about. I know of no connection. I’ve lived my life a thousand miles from her. I’ve already told you that. It would save a lot of time if you answered my questions honestly instead of shrouding everything in mystery.”

“You didn’t happen to discuss all this with your mother?” he asked, eyes piercing. “I’m prepared to believe she didn’t tell you until very recently.”

“Tell me what? That I was snatched from the cradle? There was a mix-up at the hospital?” She looked highly skeptical. “That I’m someone’s love child?”

“Hadn’t you already suspected it?” he asked quietly.

Jewel felt the pain attack her temples. “I’m going to get up and go now. What you’re saying is impossible. Unforgivable, really.”

“Please don’t.” He reached out, putting his hand over hers, an action she knew would be totally misinterpreted by everyone watching them. “God only knows what people here would make of it,” he murmured.

Her cheeks were flushed, and not only with anger. “I don’t understand any of this. I only met Lady Copeland today.”

“And it was a wonderful performance,” he informed her, releasing her hand. “She took to you immediately. It must give you hope.”

Jewel turned her head to gaze out the window. Outside in the small Italianate courtyard, a fountain was playing peacefully. No peace inside. “You’ve allowed yourself to see some kind of conspiracy where there is none. My appearance and the fact that I met Lady Copeland are nothing more than coincidences.”

Little brackets appeared at the sides of his mouth. At another time she would have found them sexy. Not now. “I don’t think you’re going to get many people to accept that,” he said. “Feature by feature, the similarity is extraordinary. Skinner had to be blind not to notice it right from the start.”

“Why should he?” Jewel met his eyes. “He wasn’t expecting any such thing. Lady Copeland must be well into her seventies. I know she still looks wonderful, but one would have to know us both very well for the resemblance to register.”

“Exactly,” he said, his voice dry. “Hasn’t it ever worried you that you resembled no one in your family?”

Jewel attempted to speak; for a moment she couldn’t. Why should she tell him her most private confusions? “I could be the very image of my father, for all you know,” she said angrily although she still had enough control to keep her voice down. “And this has something to do with my father, doesn’t it?”

“It has everything to do with your father,” he answered, grim-faced.

“And who is my father?” She was beginning to feel dizzy. “Come on, say it. There has to be some justification for this torture.”

“I can’t believe you don’t know. You’re a very clever woman. Fact-finding is part of your daily life. You’ve seen many photographs of Lady Copeland—who hasn’t? She’s always inhabited the world of glamour and power. Not only that, she’s always been a beauty with a needle-sharp brain.”

“No ornament like her granddaughter?” Jewel was stung into asking. Everyone knew that Amelia Copeland, the heiress, had claimed immunity from daily toil.

“I’m sure you made it your business to check out Amelia, as well.” His eyes were black as jet.

“Are you sure she is Lady Copeland’s granddaughter?” Jewel asked facetiously, raising her brows. “She doesn’t resemble her in the least. Not in coloring or bone structure. Perhaps I’m the real granddaughter and your girlfriend’s an impostor?” It was a deliberate thrust, and he didn’t like it.

“Even if you were Lady Copeland’s granddaughter, Eugenie, it wouldn’t get you far.”

“Really? I thought it would transport me overnight to the family home,” she retorted.

“Perhaps that’s what I mean,” he said. “The Copeland household is a dysfunctional one, to say the least.”

“Perhaps you yourself create some of that tension,” she accused him, herself on the attack.

“The fact that Travis Copeland and I are often at loggerheads has nothing to do with you. As you seem destined to find out. It’s no secret. For almost fifty years, Lady Copeland has carried with her a photograph of her little daughter. Her name was Angela. Her golden child.”

Jewel stared down at her hand. It trembled. “I had no idea Lady Copeland had a daughter.”

His eyes contested that. “I’m amazed. A fact you missed? It’s a matter of public record. The little girl died of bacterial meningitis when she was six.”

“How sad!” Even her voice trembled slightly.

“Indeed it was. Although Lady Copeland has led a very full and active life, I suspect she’s been weeping inside ever since. Angela was, from all accounts, a lovely little girl. A Botticelli angel. Sparkling with life. She looked pretty much the way you would have as a child.”

Jewel fought hard to master her emotions. “My God!” she breathed. “You’re very cruel.”

He gripped the arm of the chair, his knuckles showing white. “And you’re very—” He broke off immediately at Archie’s approach with their drinks.

“Could I get you anything else?” Archie put down the drinks on the club coasters, then glanced from one to the other, obviously picking up on their tension.

“No, no, thank you.” With a flick of his wrist Keefe Connellan produced a wallet, selecting a note that more than covered the price of the martinis. “Thanks, Archie.”

“A pleasure, Mr. Connellan. Good evening, Ms. Bishop.” Archie accepted the money and all but skipped off.

“I don’t want this drink,” Jewel said, feeling as nerve-ridden as if there were ghosts at the table.

“Just sip it,” he replied. “I’d like to continue this…unique conversation.”

“Why? I’m beginning to wonder if you’re slightly unhinged,” she suggested shortly.

The comment caused him to smile. “I don’t think so. Whoever you are, Eugenie Bishop, you’re not presenting your case—if you have one—in the right way.”

“I have no case,” she said angrily. “It’s all in your mind. In any event, I’m flying home this weekend. I’ll speak to my mother then.”

“So she can come up with an explanation? Or perhaps tell you what you should do next?”

She returned his stare coolly. “My mother isn’t a well woman.”

“I’m sorry. What’s wrong with her?”

Her blue eyes flashed. “She suffers from chronic depression. She’s done so for many years.”

“But surely she can be treated?” he asked, unexpectedly showing concern.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything the doctors can do—and they’ve tried.”

“Who’s looking after her?”

She stiffened, although this time his tone was anything but confrontational. “I wanted her to come and live with me. But she dislikes change. She lives with my aunt Judith, her sister, in the family home.”

“So there are only the three of you? No one else?”

“Unless you’ve come up with someone,” she said with more than a touch of bitterness. “My father’s death brought about great changes in our lives. My mother has been in deep mourning all these years.”

“I’m sorry. That’s tragic.” He drank a little of his martini, set it down. “It must have affected your whole world.”

“Of course.” Jewel didn’t touch her drink.

“So you sought to correct the past?”

Jewel suddenly reached flash point. She rose from her seat like the jet from the sparkling fountain. “My father was killed. It was a tragedy. Forgive me if I can’t speak about it.”

She left him sitting at the table, indifferent to the fascinated eyes that watched her progress across the room and into the lobby.